Story Time
by Satori Blackthorn
Summary: It was a dark night, the wind battering harshly against the windows. Uncle Jack, the older child asked, Will you tell us a story? What t'is it exactly ye be wantin' te know?


Hello there... I'm not going to say a whole lot about this, I'll just let you figure it our for yourselves. I hope you enjoy it! I'm told it's cute, but don't take my word for it!

By the way, Pirates of the Caribbean and all its characters does not belong to me.

Satori Blackthorn

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Story time 

Firelight danced on the wall, lighting up the sitting room with a warm, cosy glow. Outside, a torrential downpour pounded against the glass, sharp blasts of cold wind rocked the mansion down to the foundation. Lucky for the inhabitants of the home, it was well built, specially designed to withstand the battering of the seasonal storms coming off the water.

Despite the storm's urgency, it was of little concern to two of the inhabitants of the sitting room. They were far more interested in the wondrous images that were to be supplied to them by the withered old man in front of the magnificent fireplace, sitting in the wooden rocking chair as if it were a royal throne. A throne adorned with gems and gilded in gold, rather than the nicks and scratches put in place over the years of use.

The old man rocked back and forth slowly, looking over his audience with a critical eye. His body language gave one the idea that he thought what he was doing was far beneath him, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. With a casual, sea-scarred hand he stroked his once dark beard, now streaked with winding trains of grey, showing his increasing age. His body and face, however, showed he was still lithe and active even as he surpassed his middle-aged years. Soon enough, he brought his hand down from his chin and slowly crossed his arms against his chest. His clothing was not the standard, and clashed greatly with the silken finery the others were wearing. The colours were gaudy, and seemed to be thrown together in the dark, not to mention the wear of them. They were faded from long hours in the sun and lightened from the constant exposure to the salty ocean water.

"So what is it exactly you'd be wantin' te know tonight?"

The two small inhabitants, faces shining in unhidden adoration and curiosity, leaned forward from where they had been sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. They looked at each other quickly, their previous discussion on the matter coming to mind.

"We want to know more about you before you were Captain of the Black Pearl, Uncle Jack," the older of the pair, a young boy around the age of eleven summers spoke up, looking the old man in the eye, searching his face for something. "Father always talks about after you two stole the Commodore's ship-"

"Commandeered. We did not steal, we commandeered the lovely Commodore's ship."

The young boy grinned, full well knowing Uncle Jack would correct him. He and his sister had indeed heard the tale well enough to tell it word by word themselves – and little Grace was barely over six years old.

"Commandeered then," he corrected, apologetically, Uncle Jack waved the comment away with a careless gesture of his weathered hand and the boy continued on, "What did you do before you met father?"

"That, Tommy boy, is a long and arduous tale. There's not enough time now to tell it all properly – not to mention we're missing one vital component." Jack leaned forward in his chair, his expression grim, but once again, his dark brown eyes gave away what he was really feelings.

Thomas, Tom to most, but Tommy boy to Uncle Jack, grinned and nudged his sister in the side.

"Grace, go ask Mum and Father for Uncle Jack's rum."

Grace, almost stumbling in her silken nightdress, ran from the room, as silent as she had been sitting there before. Grace was a picture perfect younger version of her mother, long, brown tresses cascading down her hair, rebelliously only held in place by a loose, blood-red ribbon. She may be quiet in the company of anyone but her elder brother, whom she idolized more than Uncle Jack, but she was as curious as any young girl her age. When she returned, she was carefully balancing a finely crafted wooden flagon in her tiny hands.

"Thank'e Gracie," Uncle Jack said, taking a large gulp of the sustaining liquid. "Ahhh," he sighed in satisfaction, feeling the drink travelling through his veins with a familiar burning sensation. "Now where to begin? A previous mishap with the British Royal Navy? Or mayhaps the East India Trading Company? There was this one time where I had the wondrous experience of … filling in… for a cleric of the Church of England…"

The two siblings exchanged another silent, meaningful look. Grace looked mischievously up at her self-proclaimed Uncle and held out her arms. Jack, correctly interpreting the youngster's motion took her up in his arms and she cuddled up on his chest, her fingers twining into his beard.

"You choose tonight Uncle Jack," Thomas answered.

"Alright then… T'was many years ago now, before I had even heard of the Black Pearl or the cursed treasure of Cortez. I somehow found meself in Africa, and came across a tribe of pygmy people. Now Tommy boy, if there's one thing you don't want to do, under any circumstance - it's make a pygmy angry… lucky for me, I've got a charming personality…"

* * *

Later, when the storm outside had quieted, Will poked his head into the sitting room to see Uncle Jack still rocking back and forth in his throne, still telling his story. Gracie was fast asleep on his lap with one fist wrapped tight around a string of beads Jack kept knotted into his beard, and Thomas leaning on a stool, one arm draped over the seat and the other propped to hold his head up. Evidently he had tried valiantly to stay awake for the tale, but lost the battle he inhabited the land of dreams as well. 

Jack glanced up at his long time friend, who has started showing signs of his age as well. Will was leaning against the doorframe, looking fondly down at the scene. Jack looked more like a grandfather, rather than the children's godfather – a title James had tried unremittingly to persuade Elizabeth into changing, without succeeding. The thought made Will's smile widen.

"Come on Jack, I've got to get them to bed," Will whispered.

Jack nodded, "Let me finish." He took in a breath and brushed a hair back from Gracie's face. "And then they made me their chief… The end, for now."

"The pygmy story again, Jack?" Will asked as he picked up Thomas.

"They hadn't heard it before. 'Sides t'is a wondrous story." Jack pushed himself from his throne with one hand and helped carry Gracie to bed with the other. "Jus' like all the others."

"Least this one was true…" Will murmured.

Thomas stirred in his father's arms and looked blearily at Jack. "I missed the rest of the story…"

"Don't ye be worryin', I'll tell it again another night."

"Alright, g'night Uncle Jack…" he managed before falling back asleep.

"G'night, Tommy boy." Jack answered, ruffling the boy's head softly, "G'night."

* * *

End.

There! I like it, I hope you did too. Please tell me what you think!

Satori B.


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